Author's Notes: More alternate-universe Rurouni Kenshin fic without Kenshin. I'm bringing in both Yahiko and Sanosuke, trying to figure out how they would cope with their situations without Kenshin there to intervene. Feedback is welcome!
And as for Saitou being pretty much the main character here, remember in the series when he fought Kenshin in the dojo, he eluded to the fact that he had been watching him for some time? I figure Saitou may have been there in Tokyo perhaps from the very beginning. Anyway...
Disclaimer: The characters actually belong to N. Watsuki/Shueisha, etc. I am just borrowing them to amuse myself.
Italics indicate thoughts or emphasized words.
Alternate Tale of the Meiji Era, Chapter 2
by Fujimiya Maru
In a dark alley in Tokyo come the sounds of a fist fight. At first, the odds don't seem fair; one man against a whole gang of others. However, it's over fairly fast. The gang is cowering on the ground, bruised and bleeding. The one man still stands.
He's taller than the average japanese man, so much so that his white pants only reach the middle of his shins.
"A-Allright, we lose! You're strong... Please, forgive us!" one of the gang stutters in both fear and awe of the lone fighter.
"I woulda quit even if you didn't ask. You guys are too weak! Man, I sure picked a boring fight..." The fighter turned back to the street. He fought nearly every day, and more and more it left him feeling completely frustrated and unchallenged. Aren't there any really tough guys around here?
*************
The restaurant was full of customers, sitting in their alcoves around cooking pots of meat. Some were small families enjoying an delicious night out. Others were up to no good.
In one corner of the Akabeko sat several members of the Shuei Yakuza. They downed sake as if it was water, and swapped stories of fights and conquests. They fought over the tenderest morsels of meat from the pot. The noise they were making was drawing the attention of other customers, who merely shook their heads in disapproval.
I don't care if they punch and kick me for the rest of the evening, thought the small, dark-haired boy sitting with them. They could at least give me some damn food!
One of the yakuza, a pale, pointy-faced man named Gasuke, noticed the boy's interest in the hot pot. Out of sight from the rest of the restaurant, he reached over and punch the kid quickly in stomach.
"You didn't bring in enough money today, Yahiko, so you don't get any food." Gasuke smirked, popping another piece of beef into his mouth.
"It's not my fault," pouted Yahiko. "There were a lot of police around today; I couldn't pick pockets without someone noticing."
Gasuke casually glanced around the restaurant as he sat back, eventually finding one customer eating alone. It was a young guy, dressed sort of funny, but he was sitting in a corner out of view of most of the people. On top of that, the man looked absolutely stone drunk.
The ugly gang member pointed him out to Yahiko quietly.
"There, Yahiko. A chance to redeem yourself..." he slurred, "That guy looks too drunk to notice his wallet is missing. Just make sure you don't get caught..."
Yahiko looked over and steeled himself. This was his least favorite part of being indebted to the yakuza; although he was good at stealing like this, he didn't exactly enjoy it. If his parents knew what had become of him, they'd be so ashamed...
He sized up his target. Young, not dressed very fancy, and not even eating any food. The guy was only drinking sake. Yahiko doubted if this man had much money in his wallet at all. Well, as long as he has a couple of coins on him, maybe they'll give me some daikon radish to eat... It's better than nothing.
Sauntering over under the guise of going to ask one of the waitresses for some tea, Yahiko brushed by the drunkard. With speed and stealth that was the envy of all the street urchins, he reached into that man's pocket to grab what was hopefully his next meal ticket. Unfortunately, his hand grabbed nothing but air, and the man had an iron-like grip on the boy's arm.
"Oi, oi," said the spikey-haired man. "Good little boys should be home in bed this time of night, not taking what ain't theirs..."
"Bastard, let go of me! I wasn't taking anything!"
"Damn right you're not. I don't even have a wallet on me for you to take."
Yahiko stared at the man in disbelief, then tried again to pull away from him. This idiot doesn't even have any money. How the hell is he going to pay for his drink?
With one last glare, the boy was released. "Next time, don't get caught, kid." Yahiko gritted his teeth and stalked back to the waiting yakuza.
The fighter watched the boy walk away as he downed the last of his drink. The group he went back to were a seedy looking bunch of guys, most likely not his family. One of the more unpleasant looking men grabbed the boy by the hair and hissed something threatening in his ear. A couple of the men glanced over in his direction, but then they all got up and left the restaurant.
"Oi, jou-chan!" the fighter waved the sweet-looking waitress over. "What's up with that kid and those guys? Do they come in here often?"
"Oh, it's so sad..." replied Tae, gripping her serving tray. "Poor Yahiko-kun, his father was a Tokyo samurai, but his parents died some time ago. Supposedly they left a debt to that Shuei Yakuza group, and they make him do the most terrible things... oh, excuse me, Sanosuke-san..." she ran off to help one of the younger waitresses carry a heavy load of food before it could crash to the floor.
"Yakuza, huh..." Sanosuke smirked. "They may or may not be the toughest, but it's worth a shot..." Sneaking a peek to make sure Tae and the other waitresses were occupied, Sanosuke snuck out the back door without paying his tab.
*************
After too many kicks to the ribs to count, Yahiko was cowering in the corner of the yakuza hideout trying not to cry. Satisfied that they'd taught their little servant a lesson the gang members were engrossed in gambling for spare change.
"See?" said the man throwing the dice. "Not matter how much you shake 'em, you always get double ones!" The other men muttered their approval.
Suddenly the door burst inward, knocking out several guys in the process.
"I'm here to pick a fight!" shouted Sanosuke as he entered the room.
"Eh? You! What, our little pickpocket didn't take anything from you. What the hell do you want?" growled Gasuke from the back of the room.
"Pickpocket? Oh, I don't give a damn about that. I'm just here to pick a fight."
The yakuza stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. Yahiko just glared at the floor.
Annoyed that his desired fight wasn't forthcoming, Sanosuke charged and started to punch his way through the room. Men fell like dominoes, crashing through walls and coughing up blood on the tatami. Most didn't even have a chance to try to defend themselves. Sanosuke growled in disgust.
"You're all too damn weak! And you call yourself yakuza?" He then came face-to-face with the one named Gasuke, who seemed unimpressed with the fighter's skills. He gripped the walking stick he had slung over his shoulder.
"Do you know who I am? I am Gasuke, the manslayer!" Slowly, he pulled a hidden blade from the walking stick, letting it glitter in the lamplight.
"I DON'T CARE!" yelled Sanosuke, charging forward. He managed to land a skull-crushing punch to the side of Gasuke's head, but not without receiving a gash on his leg from the sword. Hissing slightly as red began to stain his white pants, he turned to face the remainder of his opponents. They grabbed their various weapons, poised as if to strike.
"Stop," came a tired, old voice from the next room. One man slid the shoji open, revealing a man who was supposedly the boss of the gang. "He has already defeated most of our men. If he were to defeat us all we would be the laughing stock of Tokyo."
Sanosuke narrowed his eyes at the boss, but said nothing.
"You're stronger than us. Take whatever it is you want and please leave."
"Che," he spat, "I wanted a good fight but obviously you guys all suck. What a waste of time..." He turned to leave, but picked up the forgotten dice off the ground. He rolled them, then rolled them again, a child-like grin blooming on his face.
"Cool! Fixed dice! This wasn't a total waste after all!" Shoving them in his pocket, he whistled a tune as he left the building.
The gang members that were unharmed milled about, assessing the injuries to their fallen friends. The old boss went back to his meal like nothing had happened at all. Yahiko then realized that none of them were paying attention to him.
Seizing the opportunity, he quickly made his way out the door and into the night. Looking down the street, he caught sight of the fighter walking away. On the back of his white jacket was a single character in black.
"'Wicked? Whatever, it probably stands for 'Wicked bad taste'..." the boy muttered, before running off in the opposite direction. Hopefully this road will take me far from Tokyo and those yakuza bastards... Some day, I'll come back when I'm strong enough, and I'll teach them not to mess with Myojin Yahiko!!!
Overjoyed with his newfound freedom, the orphan disappeared into the darkness.
Next chapter: Saitou vs. Zanza!
